No Destiny 4 - Learning to Live
by leaysaye
Summary: As the group continues to move towards Washington after Beth's death Daryl's physical and emotional condition deteriorates. Overwhelmed, Rick struggles to help his man, and keep the group moving. Their family is trying to help, but things will have to get a lot worse before they get better. This is the fourth part in a series. Major hurt/comfort. Illness. Sickfic.
1. Chapter 1

He didn't want to be here. Hell, he didn't want to be. Just cease to exist, vanish.

This was the worst possible outcome. No, actually, he was wrong. It could have been worse. They could have lost Carol, too. Realizing that it could always, always be worse held no comfort. In fact, it made Daryl feel worse still. It would always come worse. It would never end.

He curled up in the passenger seat, actually drew his legs up, made himself as small as he could. Turned his face more firmly away from Rick, who was in the driver's seat. Hugged himself hard, gripped his upper arms painfully enough to leave finger-shaped bruises on himself. Closed his eyes against the world rushing sickeningly by.

A dull throb had started again at the base of his skull and was slowly traveling round his head, enclosing it in a painful vice. Daryl knew what was coming. He let it happen, didn't fight it. Never mentioned it to anyone until the nausea was so strong Rick barely had time to stop before Daryl, choking on the request, was out of the car, slumping on the tarmac just by the passenger door, sick splattering his clothes, his arms.

He deserved this. He had failed another person. The agony in his head, the cramps twisting his stomach, the acid burning his throat, all of it would never, could never, be payment enough for his failure to keep their people safe.

-.-

Of course this had to happen. Carol had had a bad feeling the moment Rick had told them he'd take Noah to Shirewilt. Rick shouldn't have gone anywhere right now, they should not have split up. They should have stayed together, they were all so weak. But all that was academic now, the others were halfway to that boy's camp, and complaining would do nobody any good.

It seemed Daryl had only held it together for Rick's sake. As soon as his man was gone things had come apart at the seams. Rick and the others had only been gone an hour or so when Carol stumbled upon the hunter just out of sight of the makeshift roadside camp.

He was on his knees, heaving and gagging. Carol hurried to his side just in time to prevent him from losing his balance completely and falling face first to the ground. She put her arms around him, one hand to his forehead, murmuring soothingly and stroking his burning brow. Daryl moaned at the touch, and Carol wasn't sure whether it was from pain she was causing him.

He retched again, and she could tell it was only bile coming up now. Still, for the moment Daryl was utterly unable to stop gagging, and Carol held him for a long time while dry heaves shook his entire body. He felt worryingly light in her arms even though she was supporting most of his weight now, and Carol was horrified by how clearly she could feel his ribs through the shirt. Before the gagging finally subsided more from exhaustion than any relief, Daryl was sobbing, and shivering with fever.

"Shh…"

Carol pulled Daryl close when he was finally able to breathe again. He clung to her and buried his head against her shoulder. Of course.

"The light?"

She could feel him nod against her shakily.

"Hurts…"

Carol enfolded him more closely in her arms, shielding him as much as she could, thinking. They had nowhere to go. The car their part of the group was left with was as good as out of gas, which was partly why they'd stayed behind. The others would make finding fuel one of their priorities. Until they returned the rest of them were stranded. No dark, quiet room for Daryl to wait out the worst of this. And Carol remembered something else.

"You're out of painkillers."

It wasn't a question and she didn't expect a reply. After Beth got killed Daryl had had a few bad days, but he'd made himself sick deliberately by not taking his pills when the headache started. Once they'd coerced him into taking them again he had recovered somewhat. There was no chance of that happening now.

"Why didn't you say something, huh?"

Again, Carol didn't expect a reply, and didn't get one.

"Let's try and get you back to the others, ok? You'll only get worse if we stay here…"

Daryl let out a sigh dangerously close to a whimper. His hands bunched into the fabric of her shirt more tightly, but eventually he nodded.

It turned out to be almost impossible to get Daryl back on his feet on her own. He was so utterly devoid of strength and coordination Carol nearly gave up. She'd have to get Abe to help. But Daryl clung to her so desperately she couldn't bring herself to leave him even for a few minutes.

The first time they almost managed to get back to standing he started gagging when he tried to straighten up, and Carol only barely managed to lower him down without a huge jolt when his knees gave way. They stayed down a few more minutes, Carol noticing with increasing worry just how labored Daryl's breathing was becoming, and how his skin became hotter and hotter under her hands.

On the second attempt they got themselves upright, more or less. Daryl was still heavy enough to make it awkward for Carol to move at all, and he increasingly slumped in her arms as they slowly covered the short distance to their camp.

Maggie was the first to spot them and immediately came hurrying over. Carol stopped, shifting Daryl so Maggie could grab his other arm. He was still trying to avert his eyes from the light by keeping his head close to her shoulder, and the new position which would allow the two women to hold him made that impossible. He groaned and Carol felt him shudder, and slump even more.

"Sorry, sorry… Daryl, I'm so sorry, it's not for long… Maggie, let's get him in the back seat of the Sedan… He needs to lie down right away, he's barely standing..."

Maggie nodded, supported Daryl on the opposite side and the three of them covered the remaining distance to the car more quickly. Carol climbed in and somehow they got Daryl into the backseat. He was so uncoordinated that he was almost no help, and the two women struggled to get him through the door without hurting him. Once inside he flopped down heavily on the back bench. Carol climbed out of the other door and went round to the trunk.

"Can you get me some bottles of water, and some cloths?" Carol turned to Maggie, who nodded. She closed the door behind Daryl as quietly as she could and moved to where their provisions were stacked.

As hoped, Carol found sheets, towels and blankets in the trunk and set to work. By the time Maggie came back she had hung these over all the windows, throwing the interior into a hopefully soothing gloom.

Carol took the bottles and cloths from Maggie with a thanks and walked to the door by Daryl's feet. They'd leave this one alone open a crack, to get in and out without slamming doors all the time. She climbed in carefully, trying not to rock the car, then folded down the front seats to afford more space. Finally, Carol perched awkwardly on the back seat by Daryl's side.

Carol looked down at their hunter. He'd drawn his legs up, trying to make himself small. Carol could see the tension vibrating through his entire body. His hand was pressed hard on his stomach, and his breath now came in tight, small gasps. Carol could see the misery on his face as he fought nausea and pain. She looked around. There was one more thing she needed.

Fortunately Carol had remembered right, and she now leaned over to retrieve a number of plastic bags from the door compartment in the front passenger door. She was just in time. No sooner had Carol sat back down that Daryl lifted his head with a moan, scrabbling for purchase with his hands, trying to get out of the car.

"Daryl, here."

Carol helped him to push himself up and forward. She held the bag for him as he gagged, finally retching light brown liquid. She was amazed there was still so much to come up, and was getting increasingly worried at the thought of just how much fluids he was losing.

After what felt like a long time Daryl slumped back heavily into the seat. There were tear streaks all down his face, and his skin was ghostly white except for two red spots high in his cheeks. Carol put the sick bag on the floor and got one of the bottles of water and a cloth. She poured water onto the cloth and held it gently against Daryl's forehead. When she started wiping his face with the cloth Daryl let out a deep sigh that ended in a sob. Carol poured some more water over it when the cloth got warm quickly, then placed it on Daryl's forehead.

Maggie stuck her head through the door and Carol turned round.

"Here, I got these from his pack." She handed two blankets to Carol. "And here's a pillow, too. Might feel better for his head."

Carol took the pillow as well and smiled at Maggie. "Thank you."

"Wish there was more we could do…"

Carol looked down at Daryl who was now shivering so hard his teeth were clicking together.

"I know…"

With a sad smile Maggie withdrew and leaned the door closed noiselessly. Carol carefully lifted Daryl up by the shoulders with a few soothing words and placed the pillow on the seat. The hunter sank into it with another moan. When Carol spread the blankets over him Daryl pulled them close around himself immediately with a shudder.

"Thank you…so cold…"

"Unfortunately you don't feel cold… Daryl, you need to drink some water. You're already dehydrated, and you'll soon feel much worse unless we get some liquids into you…"

"Please… no… 's jus' gonna make me puke 'gain…"

"Maybe. But we have to try, Daryl. It's no use arguing…"

He hesitated, then gave a tiny nod. Carol unscrewed the bottle again and held it against his lips. Daryl took a few sips. Carol could tell how parched he was, and how hard he was trying not to drink too greedily. A little water and spit ran down his chin and Carol wiped it away. Then she withdrew the bottle.

"Let's wait a moment, see if this agrees with you…"

They didn't have long to wait. Carol could see the panicky flutter in Daryl's throat a minute or so later and held the bag open again. He was leaning heavily on her as the water came rushing back up.

Carol held him more firmly as the spasms started to subside, and Daryl clung to her. He was now crying in earnest, and when he was finally able to lie back down he buried his face in the pillow. One hand went up to the side of his head and he pressed down hard, moaning.

Carol gently stroked his hair, then his shaking shoulders. If only Rick came back soon. She knew he was the only one that could give Daryl any comfort now.


	2. Chapter 2

"Abe, Rosita and Tara went to find meds. We didn't know what to do for the best, wait for you to come back with the car and gas, or… we didn't think we chould wait any longer."

Rick nodded absently, his hands stroking his beard as he looked past Carol into the distance. The sun was just beginning to set.

"You did the right thing. We wouldn't have been on our way back yet if Tyreese…" He looked at Carol, his eyes full of pain. "It's all my fault. I didn't even think of checking for meds for him… how could I have not thought of this happening again… He's been in such a state since Beth…"

Rick rubbed his eyes with one hand. Carol stepped closer and put a hand on his arm.

"Rick, you need to go to him now. He's really agitated. I think it's the dehydration, and the fever… and he's hurting worse than ever. I know you can't really do any more than the rest of us, but he usually calms down with you there, and he badly needs to rest."

Rick nodded, but hesitated again just before he'd turned fully towards the car.

"Don't worry," Carol assured him, "we'll take care of… we'll dig the grave."

Rick nodded again and stepped over to the car with the darkened-out windows. The back passenger door nearest to him was left open a crack. He pulled it wider and peered in. Maggie, who was perched awkwardly by Daryl's side on the backseat looked round. Rick saw some relief on her worried face.

"Rick, thank goodness… he'll be glad you're back…"

Her voice was very quiet as she carefully rose and clambered out of the car. She straightened up and gestured at the small confines in the backseat.

"It's far from ideal. Be careful not to bang your head. He's asleep right now, sort of… Rick, he's in really bad shape…" Maggie looked at him, concern in her eyes. "Get him to sip water, if you can. But leave ten minutes or so between sips. That way, sometimes it stays down…"

Fear was creeping through Rick with a slithery, sick sensation. This all sounded much worse than ever before. He nodded at Maggie.

"I'm grateful, you all looking after him…"

"Of course, Rick. He's family. There's water bottles on the floor. You don't forget to drink as well, ok? Keep replacing the cloth on his forehead, he's burning up and it dries out quickly. And you'll need the plastic bags…"

Rick lightly touched her arm, then opened the car door more fully while trying not to let too much light in. He peered into the gloomy interior to orient himself, but could only vaguely make out a shape curled up on the backseat. Careful not to jolt the car he climbed inside, feeling his way into the space Maggie had just vacated. Perching there was exceptionally uncomfortable, and Rick knew they'd have to find a different arrangement soon. He had a feeling they'd be in here for some time.

First he had to assess Daryl's status, though. Giving himself a few minutes to adjust to the semi-darkness Rick looked around himself. There were several bottles of water in the foot space by Daryl's head, just as Maggie had said. He could see the plastic bags, too, and he carefully selected a fresh one and put it in easy reach.

Then Rick looked at Daryl. His hunter's face was ashen in the gloom, and covered in perspiration. As Rick's eyes got used to the near-darkness he noticed the ripples of discomfort and the shivers that crossed the other man's face every few seconds. A low, slow moan came from Daryl then, and he started to shift himself around, but barely seemed to have the strength or coordination to lift his head.

"Hey man, lemme help…"

Rick put his arms around Daryl and lifted him up to half sitting. Daryl's hands scrabbled against him uselessly and the hunter turned his head, trying and failing to focus his gaze on Rick. Rick could see Daryl's throat working panicky as he swallowed rapidly, and Rick grabbed the small plastic bag he had just prepared.

"Rick… so sick…"

"'s ok, Daryl, I got you. Here…"

Rick held the bag so Daryl could lean over it properly, and his lover's clammy-hot fingers closed over his on the bag. Daryl dry-heaved and gagged painfully a few times before a thin stream of sick finally splattered into the bag. He continued to gag, and even though not much was coming up he seemed unable to stop.

Daryl was shaking hard against Rick. His breath was coming in painful, small gasps, and he felt so hot against Rick's chest Rick was soon sweating profusely. Finally the retching stopped and Daryl slumped in Rick's arms, exhausted. Rick felt terribly sorry for his man as Daryl's hand came up and he pressed it hard against his temple with a sob.

"'t hurts… so much…"

Tears sprang into Rick's eyes. He felt guilty and helpless.

"Abe's gone to find some meds. You gotta hang in there just a little longer… 'm here now, I won't let go…"

Rick retrieved the cloth from where it had fallen onto the seat, wet it from the bottle and placed it against Daryl's burning brow. He put his arm behind Daryl's head to try and support its weight.

Daryl moaned at the feeling of the cloth against his face. His hand, instead of pressing against his temple, came to lie on top of Rick's. His eyes struggled open and sought out Rick's face. He still had trouble focusing, and when he spoke his voice was hoarse on cracked and bleeding lips.

"You came back… 'm sorry… shoulda tol' ya… no pills… 'm so sorry…"

Tears were filling Daryl's eyes now, and one rolled down his cheek. Rick wiped it away gently with his thumb.

"Shhh, don't cry, Daryl, it'll just hurt worse… nothing to be sorry for, not your fault… you'll be ok, just try and relax, and hang in there just a little longer… I love you, be strong for me…"

Daryl tried to nod and with an effort stopped crying. Then he shifted in Rick's arms, and Rick was sure that the awkward way they were arranged on the backseat was hurting his man even more.

"Let's try and change things around so you're more comfortable, ok?"

"Yeah…"

Rick moved Daryl carefully. He helped him sit up fully for a moment then slid into the seat, facing forward. Then Rick helped Daryl adjust himself against his chest, and finally Daryl relaxed into him with a sigh. Rick looked down at his hunter who now had his eyes closed. He seemed to be breathing a little easier. Even though he felt like he was boiling already Rick pulled the blankets more closely around them both. Daryl was still shivering in his arms.

"Better now?"

Daryl made an assertive noise against Rick's shirt. "Yeah… too much pressure, before… head's gonna explode… 's ok now…"

Rick could feel Daryl tense against him despite this assertion. Rick knew this illness now, and he knew what the tension meant. He reached for the sick bag just in time. There was only a trickle of stomach acid left to come up, but Rick could tell how painful the convulsive retching was for his man. Daryl was shaking again, and sobbing into Rick's chest. For many minutes Rick just held him and they rode it out together. When he could feel Daryl relax a little Rick wiped his face with the wet cloth. Daryl leaned into the coolness with a sigh. For now the crisis seemed over, so Rick placed the plastic bag on the floor, within easy reach.

"Daryl we need to get some water into you. I know it's scary as hell right now, but you gotta try a sip…"

Daryl gave a small whimper, but Rick could feel him nodding. He knew how parched Daryl must be feeling by now, and how frightened of the renewed pain and that what he so desperately craved would make him vomit again. What an awful situation to be in.

Rick unscrewed the bottle and felt for Daryl's hand. In the gathering darkness he knew it'd be easier if Daryl helped. Daryl got the idea and they guided the water bottle together. Rick tipped it ever so slightly until Daryl could take a small sip. Then Rick took the bottle away immediately. He could feel Daryl tense up against him and his hand went for the plastic bag by his feet. After a minute, however, Daryl relaxed again, and so did Rick. For now, the water seemed to be staying put.

Rick pressed a kiss against Daryl's sweaty hair, then quietly whispered close to his ear. "Go to sleep now, you need it. We'll try a bit more later."

"Mhhmm… Rick… thanks for comin' back t'me…"

Daryl's voice was hoarse and cracked from the stomach acid that had been burning his throat all day. He curled more tightly into Rick, one hand bunched into Rick's shirt, as if trying to anchor himself. His other hand wandered onto his stomach. Rick refreshed the wet cloth and Daryl sighed in gratitude, relaxing slowly. After only a couple of minutes deep, even breaths told Rick that the other man had dropped off.

Rick dozed as well. The day had been long and exhausting, and it wasn't over yet. Over his worry for Daryl he'd never for a moment forgotten the horror of Tyrese's death, and now, as Daryl slept fitfully in his arms and all was quiet, Rick's mind returned fully to all the misery they had experienced lately. There was so much heartache in their group right now, and Rick knew there would only be more pain and worry to come. He felt more hopeless and despondent than ever before, and he wished desperately something, anything would go right for a change.

The gloomy, stuffy interior of the car was starting to give Rick a headache, too. When he started awake from a short doze he tried to stretch carefully so as not to jolt Daryl who seemed more deeply asleep, and he wondered whether he could risk cracking the door open a bit more. On balance, Rick decided, subjecting Daryl to a draft in his feverish, sweaty state would outweigh all the benefits of fresh air.

Rick was just on the verge of nodding off again, vaguely aware of the beginnings of a cricked neck, when Daryl gave a sudden start. Rick reached for the sick bag immediately, but Daryl seemed to have something else on his mind. He scrabbled for the door latch, and Rick, surprised, needed a moment to get a good handle on his hunter without hurting him.

"Hey, man, what's up? Calm down, Daryl, shh…"

"Rick, we gotta go, now… Sophia… we gotta help her. She's in the barn… there's walkers in there… oww…"

Daryl crumpled against Rick with a small cry, burying his face in Rick's shirt, holding his head with both hands. He kept writhing and shifting in Rick's arms as Rick tried desperately to restrain and comfort his man at the same time.

"Daryl, calm down, it's ok… I got you. No need to go anywhere. We're ok, we're safe... shh…"

Daryl raised his head. There were tears sliding down his cheeks again. He struggled once more to focus his gaze on Rick, but couldn't manage it, and finally just closed his eyes again, leaning his forehead against Rick's shoulder as if even the strength to hold his head up had deserted him.

"She's dead, isn't she… Rick, they're all dead…"

Daryl's voice was hardly a whisper, and he shuddered, then tensed against Rick. Rick's hand went for the sick bag again as Daryl leaned forward with a groan. He gagged, but nothing came up. Rick held him gently, rubbing his back while the dry heaving subsided slowly.

"Not everyone's dead, man. We're still here…"

The sob coming from Daryl almost sounded like a laugh. He clung harder to Rick, but didn't say anything else. After a few minutes Rick felt him relax again and knew Daryl had gone back to sleep.

-.-

The next time Rick awoke someone was in the car with them. He instinctively went for his weapon, until Daryl started whimpering at the sudden, violent movements. Rick, heart hammering, finally realized that the dim shape in the doorframe was Abe. His heart only slowed down gradually.

"Sorry, Rick, didn't mean to give you both a fright…" The red-haired man held out a small bottle to Rick. "All we could find before tings got too crazy. Maybe a dozen pills. Make them last…"

He looked down at Daryl, and Rick could see the pity on Abe's face despite the gloom. "How is he?"

Rick rubbed his eyes. "Not good. I… I don't know if he can even swallow these now… thanks, man, for going…"

Abe nodded and quietly withdrew. Rick placed a hand on Daryl's neck and stroked the hot, damp skin under his hair.

"Shall we give this a try? Daryl… can you hear me? Wake up, man…"

It took Rick several minutes to wake Daryl sufficiently, and have him lucid enough, to understand what Rick wanted him to do. He propped them both up to sitting so Daryl would hopefully not choke on the pills. Rick shook one from the bottle and placed it in Daryl's mouth. He held the water bottle against his man's lips, but knew immediately that this could never work. Most of the water ran down Daryl's chin, and it took much more than the tiny sips he'd been able to tolerate to get the pill to go down.

When it was finally gone Rick hoped against hope that maybe water and pill would stay put, but he had the plastic bag at the ready nevertheless. It took less than two minutes before Daryl curled up with a groan, both hands pressed hard against his stomach. Rick supported him carefully as he leaned sideways off the seat and all the water, together with the precious medication, came back up. When Daryl finally stopped retching he slumped hard into Rick, too exhausted now even for tears.

Rick held him, rocking them both gently. He felt fear bubbling up. Daryl needed to keep the water down, Rick knew they were dangerously close to the point of no return now. He felt the heat coursing through his man, wrecking havoc with his system, getting more intense by the minute now. Daryl had hidden his face against Rick again, weakly holding on to Rick's shirt. His moans of pain were barely audible but they cut Rick to the bone.

There was a movement by the door again, and Rick almost involuntarily reached for his weapon. He squinted, hardly able to discern shapes in the weak moonlight filtering in through the widening crack in the door. Daryl's whimpers grew louder; Rick wasn't sure whether his man was reacting to his own increased alertness or the light, weak as it was.

"Rick?"

Carol's voice was a mere whisper. Rick relaxed and placed a soothing hand on Daryl's neck.

"Shh, man, it's ok… Carol, thank god… I didn't know what best to do…"

"How is he?"

"Worse, much worse. He can't keep the pills down, we tried… He needs too much water, and then he can't keep from throwing up…"

"That's what I thought. Give them to me, I've got an idea."

Rick handed Carol the small bottle and she disappeared without a word of explanation. Rick didn't have to wait long. He was exhausted and despondent enough to just sit with his hand on Daryl's back, comforting his man as he drifted in and out of consciousness, while somebody else played the active role for once.

Then Carol was back. She held something out to Rick.

"Here, take the cup. I crushed two of the pills and dissolved them in a couple of spoonfuls of water."

Rick took the cup as Carol continued, "Swirl it round a bit and get him to drink it. It's going to be bitter, but there's so little volume he should be able to keep it down. Even if he can't drink it all it'll be better than nothing."

Rick smiled at her, then quickly realized she wouldn't be able to see it in the darkness.

"You're a genius, Carol. Thank you, this might just work…"

"I hope it does, I'm all out of ideas now."

She withdrew and Rick started swirling the cup. He couldn't really see anything now, but they had no more time to lose. With his free hand he searched for Daryl's face. His man's cheek was hot under his fingers, and wet with tears again. Rick could feel eyelashes flutter like tiny wings against his fingers as Daryl opened his eyes at the touch.

"Hey… did you hear what Carol said?"

Daryl's voice was slurred, and the words came slowly. "Drink… t'bitter pills… I can', Rick… no…"

He was shaking hard again. Rick felt very afraid. They had to do this, now.

"We have no choice, man. Please, Daryl, do it for me…"

Rick could feel Daryl bury his face against his chest again, felt his hot, fast, uneven breathing, the heat emanating from his man. Long moments ticked by, Rick's hand was back on Daryl's neck, trying to soothe him. Finally he felt Daryl give a tiny nod. His hand met his where he was holding the cup. Together they brought it closer to Daryl's lips. Rick helped him tip it, and he could hear Daryl swallow. He gagged when the bitter liquid started making its way down, and Rick tensed, retrieving the plastic bag.

Fortunately this turned out to be unnecessary. After a few moments Daryl shuddered and sank back into Rick, coughing slightly.

"Want a bit of water to wash that down?"

"Yeah…"

Rick unscrewed the bottle and Daryl's hand met his again.

"Tiny sip, remember. We want this to work now…"

Daryl took a very small sip, then curled up and rested his head against Rick's shoulder. Rick replaced the bottle on the floor by his feet and pulled Daryl close. He stroked his lover's damp hair and Daryl's low sigh still sounded more like a moan. Rick's heart felt heavy at all the pain his man had had to endure recently.

"Get some sleep now, Daryl. You'll feel better in the morning."

The sound Daryl made was skeptical, but he didn't say anything. After a few minutes his breathing became more regular and deeper, and Rick thought he was finally relaxing into proper, restful sleep.

Rick leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He needed sleep urgently, too, but for a long time it wouldn't come. His mind kept returning to the day's event, and he realized that even if the medicine worked now for Daryl this was hardly even a respite. They had so few pills, and so little of everything else. Another of their number had died that day, and they had a long way before them still, without even a definitive goal in mind. Daryl would be weak, which would put a strain on them all, not least on his man. Rick's exhaustion almost turned to despair when he considered all that needed doing now.

Finally he dropped off, too, but his dreams were filled with nothing but misery and pain.


	3. Chapter 3

He had dreaded this moment, more than anything. But it had come, sooner than hoped for, as they all knew it would. They were finally completely out of gas. As they got out of the cramped confines of their one remaining car Rick couldn't help but check on Daryl again and again. He knew exactly how many pills were left this time. It was two.

For a couple of days now Daryl hadn't needed any, but he was weaker than ever, and Rick knew he wasn't himself. His hunter had just sat in the car since they'd gotten back on the road, not saying or doing anything. Rick had realized exactly how much the illness had taken out of Daryl when he hadn't once volunteered to take on a single watch since that last migraine attack. Of course, Rick wouldn't have allowed him to take watch or go off hunting on his own, even if he'd wanted to. He'd been fully prepared to argue with his man, but that hadn't been necessary. Daryl had slept away most of the first few days back on the road, curled up in the passenger seat by Rick's side. In the evenings he'd hardly stayed awake long enough to push around the meagre rations they'd managed to scrounge on his plate before curling up under his and Rick's blankets by the fire.

The one thing Rick had been unsuccessful in doing was to entice Daryl to eat. He'd just push the plate or can away if Rick so much as mentioned it, and once or twice tears had welled up in his eyes, which had made Rick feel awfully guilty. He knew Daryl was afraid of being sick again, but he was growing increasingly worried. Their food situation was getting worse, and Daryl needed any and all nourishment to regain some of his strength.

And then the first car had failed. Cramming into the remaining one for several days had meant Daryl could no longer sleep halfway comfortably, which had Rick worried immediately. His condition had soon deteriorated again, and Rick had been forced to stop quickly a couple of times as Daryl staggered out to be violently travel sick by the roadside. His battered system clearly couldn't tolerate the conditions they were traveling under.

Now things would be much worse. Both cars were gone and Rick knew after the first hour that they were in trouble. Daryl didn't say anything, as usual, but Rick saw how much of a struggle it was for his man to keep up with the others even for a few minutes at a time. Seeing their usually strong hunter like this was weighing heavily on everyone, he knew. The heat was getting worse, too, and their water reserves were almost depleted. Over the last few days Rick had made sure Daryl wouldn't want for water, but now even that was impossible. They hardly had enough to keep the more or less healthy ones the group going for much longer.

With every step under the burning sun Daryl was getting weaker. At first Rick just watched him, trying to set a pace Daryl could halfway keep up with. He didn't want to embarrass his man by speaking plainly about what everyone could see, but it became obvious as the day wore on that this arrangement wouldn't work for long. By lunchtime Daryl was struggling along at the very end of their straggly line, and when Rick called to them all to take a break he went off on his own, sitting in the shade of a tree with his back to them all.

Rick handed Judith to Carl and went to his man. Daryl didn't acknowledge he even knew Rick was there. He had his legs drawn up and his forehead rested on his arms dangling limply from his knees. His breath sounded labored even sitting down. Rick dropped down next to Daryl and put a hand on his man's neck. Daryl gave a shaky sigh.

"Head starting to hurt again?"

Rick knew the signs well by now, and he knew that with their current level of exertion, lack of food and water, and the bright glare from the sun it was only a matter of time. There had not been sufficient time or medication for Daryl to properly get over the last crisis, so the outcome of what Rick could see looming on the horizon was pretty much inevitable.

"Not really. 's comin' tho… but you know that…"

Daryl's voice sounded so tired and so resigned it hurt Rick to the very core. He pulled Daryl into his arms and put a hand soothingly onto the back of Daryl's neck. The hunter didn't resist, but he didn't allow himself to relax into Rick, either.

"It kills me that there's nothing I can do, man. You don't deserve this…"

"But I do…" Daryl's voice was bitter. "I deserve it all, an' more. I let 'em die, all of 'em, and this is me payin' for me idiocy…"

"Stop this right now!"

Rick's hand on Daryl's neck tightened and Daryl gave a surprised yell of agony. Rick let go and Daryl pulled away, shaking.

"I'm so sorry, man, so sorry! I didn't mean to do that…"

Daryl just shook his head, he wouldn't even meet Rick's eye. Rick could see tears spilling down his man's face. He felt disgusted with himself, but also anger bubbling up at Daryl's attitude. For the moment he didn't know what to do or say, so he rose quickly and turned away. Before he did so he saw Daryl's head drop back onto his arms as he curled up, shoulders shaking.

Rick kept his distance but when they were getting ready to move he went back over, took Daryl's crossbow and slung it over his own back. Daryl made no move to stop him, but didn't look at him, either.

The end of the line came quickly. Rick had been up front briefly, checking on Carl and Judith and conferring with Michonne after they had just dispatched a group of walkers.

"Rick!"

Glenn's voice was urgent, even on just that one word. Rick wheeled around just in time to see Daryl's hands go up to his head, palms pressing hard on each temple. He bent over with a groan loud enough to go all the way through Rick. Then his man's knees gave way and he crumpled onto the dusty road.

None of them was close enough to get to him in time, and Daryl hit the ground hard, barely catching himself with one arm. He just stayed where he was, head down, breath ragged. Rick could see his ribcage working hard to draw in enough air. When he got to his man's side Rick could hear Daryl gag, but for the moment nothing was coming up.

Rick dropped to his knees by Daryl's side and grabbed him quickly. Daryl slumped into him immediately, crying again and trying to hide his face against Rick's chest. Rick pulled him close, shielding Daryl from the light as much as he could.

They stayed like this for a long time. The others slowly circled back, keeping a watchful eye out while Rick and Daryl sat in the middle of the road. Rick knew they would have to move soon, but Daryl was shaking so hard in his arms, clinging to him so desperately and clearly in a lot of pain Rick just couldn't bring himself to add to the discomfort by moving him just yet. And anyway, where was there to go? Rick truly was at his wit's end this time.

It was Carol who finally took the initiative.

"Rick, you can't stay there, it's too exposed, and it's not doing him any favors."

"He can't walk any further, Carol."

Rick knew this to be the truth, just as much as the fact that carrying Daryl any meaningful distance wouldn't work either. Unless they had a destination in mind traveling would be needless agony for Daryl now.

"I know that. We need to find somewhere to make camp, at least temporarily…"

Rick knew she was right. He looked around them and pointed. "Maybe under those trees? Put up camp, then some of us can go scout…"

Carol nodded and waved at Abraham who came over. "Help Rick with Daryl, Abe? More muscle means less jostling him around."

Abe nodded, and Carol pointed at the dense clump of trees fifty yards away.

"There. We can make something of that." She turned to Rick. "Give us a minute to check it out."

Rick watched her, Rosita and Glenn inspect the tree line, while his hands continued to stroke Daryl's back. The hunter was still shaky and every few seconds he moaned quietly. Suddenly he tensed in Rick's arms and Rick looked down. Daryl tried to lift his head and lean sideways, but didn't quite manage in time. He gagged, and a thin trickle of vomit spilled down his own front while some also landed on Rick's shirt. Then he dry-heaved a few times, finally sinking heavily against Rick again, tears running down his face.

"Sorry… 'm so sorry…"

Rick sighed, wiping the tears off Daryl's face and some of the sick off his chin with a corner of his shirt. Then he put his arms more tightly around Daryl and hugged him close.

"No matter. 's not at all important…"

Carol waved the all clear. Abe crouched by Daryl's other side. "How we best gonna do this?"

Somehow, they got Daryl upright between them, which brought on another bout of dry heaving. Rick looked at Abe, aware how hard this must be to deal with for someone not used to it. But rather than the disgust he'd expected to see on Abe's face there was only worry, and pity, mirroring Rick's own feelings. They truly were family now.

"Keep your eyes closed," Abe growled quietly. "We got ya, we'll get you there safe."

With Rick's and Abe's combined strength they covered the distance to the impromptu camp quickly. Carol was already busy hanging tarps and large bin bags between the branches, creating a kind of make-shift tent.

"Let's see if we can't shield him a little. Rick, get him settled. Abe, can you help with these?"

Rick tried to make Daryl as comfortable on the ground as he could. He brought his own and Daryl's blankets, and Maggie came again with the pillow. Then Rick poured a small amount of their precious water onto the cloth they'd used for that purpose before and placed it over Daryl's forehead and eyes. The hunter sighed at the coolness, then felt blindly for Rick's hand on his face and held on hard. Rick knew his man couldn't speak just then but he got the message. Daryl didn't want to be alone.

"I'm here, man, I'm not going anywhere."

Daryl sighed with gratitude and Rick sat cross legged on the ground right next to him, letting the others handle the tasks needed to set up for the night.

Carol helped finish off the make-shift tent, then disappeared briefly. Rick looked up at the tarps and plastic suspended between the branches. It wasn't perfect, but at least, together with the thick foliage, little sunlight now reached them. Daryl, propped up on the pillow, was dozing restlessly, never lying properly still for more than a few seconds. But now, lying in the shade with the cool cloth covering his eyes he seemed to be able to relax at least a little.

Rick had just wet a second cloth and with murmured reassurances replaced the drying one quickly when Carol reappeared.

"Rick."

She tapped him lightly on the shoulder with a small plastic cup.

"I've crushed one of the pills with a couple spoonfuls of water. Try and get it into him now. Then we'll wait out the night and look for somewhere safer tomorrow. Maybe he'll be better with this and some sleep…"

Rick took the cup from Carol. She was right, there was nothing for it but wait. Rest and regroup. See how Daryl responded to the pill, and a night of hopefully restful sleep. But Rick didn't like it, that they were forced to lie low in a place not of their choosing.

They were out of food, almost out of water. But there was no way to move Daryl now, not the state they were all in. Even between him and Abe, and even if they all took turns, it would be excruciating for Daryl to be dragged along with no known goal in mind. Just looking at him now, protected as much as he could be from the sun and the heat he was in considerable distress. Adding to this was the last thing Rick, or any of them, would want to do.

Still, one bit of discomfort Daryl would have to endure now. Rick stroked his hair gently, bending down.

"Hey man, you gotta wake up for a sec… Gotta try and take your pill, all right?"

It took a while to accomplish this task, then Rick hovered anxiously to see if the meds would stay down. Fortunately, on this occasion, they did. Daryl finally dropped off into deeper sleep and seemed to be in less pain. Rick allowed himself to relax a little, too. Abe came over and crouched by his side.

"It's too late to scout now, but tomorrow morning we mustn't lose any time." He looked at Rick. "If we're forced to lay low for a while we need to find provisions, not just shelter…"

Rick nodded. "I know… tomorrow, first thing. I'll come, too…"

Abraham shook his head. "No you won't. You stick close, you're needed here. 's not just Daryl, even if he needs to be your main concern right now. There's also Judith and Carl. Keep them safe. I'll handle the rest. Speaking of which… Michonne and I will try and rustle up some wildlife now, if we can. Set some snares. Daryl's the expert, of course, but we're not totally useless at that hunting thing…"

He straightened up and clapped Rick on the back, indicating Daryl with a nod of the head. "You see to keeping him safe and chill, all right? We all got our jobs, as usual, and right now yours is not to spread yourself too thin with your worries, but to concentrate on what really matters."

And Rick took Abe's word to heart. He kept watch over Daryl, checked on Carl and Judith and made sure the remaining water was rationed so those three came first. Rick was exhausted himself, and sick with worry as well as lack of food. These last few weeks were really starting to take their toll on them all.

When Carol suggested at sundown that he get some sleep while he could Rick didn't hesitate. He stretched out next to Daryl, who had been asleep pretty much since Rick had given him the meds. When he looked at the tired, drawn features of his man it hit Rick again just how temporary and precarious their current respite was.

He sighed and closed his eyes, certain he'd lie awake for hours while his brain dwelled on his worries. He'd hardly finished that thought when the exhaustion took over and he fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

"Rick, there's a barn, a couple miles away. Do you think we can manage that far?"

Rick looked at Abe, then at the sky. They'd been on the road for twenty minutes. When the sky had darkened alarmingly in the morning they had decided that they had no choice but to move, and hope they'd find shelter quickly. No sooner had they set off than the rain had started.

While the water was welcome by them all in their parched state a few things had become obvious quickly: Having Daryl exposed to the heavy downpour was both painful for his head and cooled him down so fast that he could barely move for shivering now. In addition, the rain was quickly turning into a storm.

Rick looked over at where Daryl was slumped against Carol. They were cowering under a nearby tree and she was trying to shield him from the worst of the pounding rain. All their clothes and blankets were wet and the hunter was shivering so hard Rick could see him shaking even from fifteen yards away. They needed shelter now.

"If you help me again we can. Anyway, we don't really have a choice."

For another mile or so Daryl still managed to put one foot in front of the other more or less consistently as long as Abe and Rick took most of his weight. As the storm became stronger, and Daryl's strength waned, every yard became a struggle. His breath now came in tiny, hissing gasps, and his low moans soon turned into sobs. Finally, with a desperate cry he slumped almost unconscious between the two men, nearly bringing them all crashing down onto the slippery, muddy road.

"How far, Abe?" Rick gasped, holding Daryl up with his own waning strength, one hand supporting his chest to keep him upright, feeling his man's heart beating wildly, ribcage rising and falling erratically with each rattly, uncertain breath.

Abe looked down at the hunter. "Less than a mile. Here…"

He bent down, slid Daryl's arm more firmly around his neck and picked him up with the other arm behind his knees. Daryl's head immediately slumped against Abe's shoulder. He moaned quietly at the sudden shift in position but didn't open his eyes. Rick knew he was barely conscious.

He looked at his man's face with worry. Wet from the downpour it was no longer merely pale but looked gray, almost translucent. There were huge black circles under his eyes, and his lips were almost purple. He was shivering hard. Rick could only imagine how much the cold was affecting him in his condition. When he arranged Daryl's arm so it wouldn't hinder Abe from keeping his balance his hand was like ice.

And so they continued. Rick walked by Abe's side, making sure the road held no obstacles, and ready at all times to catch both Daryl and Abe should the latter lose his footing. Finally, just as Rosita had let them between the trees a way, a small wooden building came into view. Rick walked ahead of Abe now, knowing just how treacherous the promise of safety was – and how much they needed even this uncertain respite.

The day crawled by. The storm steadily grew worse. And as if they hadn't enough to worry about, when Abe, Tara and Michonne came back from scouting the area they brought with them a report of water bottles left in the middle of the road, with a sign reading "From a friend". Rick, nerves already at breaking point, grew more and more tense as they sat and waited out the storm, mind revolving around this mysterious new development – was it a threat? – and their overall desperate situation.

Again he left a lot of their usual tasks to the others as all his efforts centered on making Daryl comfortable, and – he couldn't hide the thought from himself any longer – do what he could to keep his man alive.

After trying for a frustratingly long time they finally got a small fire going. Maggie helped Rick spread their bedding close to try and get it dried out. All of their belongings had gotten thoroughly drenched in the downpour. Daryl was on the bare ground with his head in Carol's lap, shaking uncontrollably, whimpering. She looked up at Rick with a frown as the hunter's moans of pain grew louder.

"We need to strip that wet stuff off him, he'll never be able to stop shivering otherwise. Have we got anything at least halfway dry?"

Rick and Maggie rummaged through their things, but everything was damp if not positively dripping. Carol thought for a moment, then pointed towards the small space at the front of the barn where they'd killed a single, female walker on arrival.

"In there. I saw an old horse blanket, off to the side. It might not be too awful."

It turned out to be pretty awful, and smelled worse, but it was dry and had no visible blood on it. Carol motioned at Rick as he inspected it doubtfully.

"Come here and help me. We need to strip him down completely, and you're going to do the same." She saw the look on his face and rolled her eyes. "Believe me, I wish I could come up with a better plan… Body heat is the only thing we got. You'll lie down with him to try and warm him up, or he's not going to survive the night."

Rick knew Carol was right. He did as he was told. He wasn't bothered about his modesty, or how dirty the floor was. All he could think about was saving his man. He felt a paralyzing fear creeping up inside him at the thought that it might already be too late. As he helped Carol and Maggie undress Daryl, then stripped himself, Rick prayed for the first time in many years.

Maggie hung up his and Daryl's clothes with the bedding. Rick stretched out on the ground next to Daryl, and Carol helped him pull the hunter close, settling down with as much skin on skin contact as possible. Rick caught the horrified look on Carol's face as her gaze slid up and down Daryl's emaciated form. When her eyes met Rick's he could see tears in them.

"I had no idea how bad it was… oh Rick!" She motioned at his back. "And did you know about the scars?"

Rick shook his head. "I suspected, but he never lets anyone see them…"

Carol briefly stroked Daryl's head where it lay against Rick's chest, then squeezed Rick's arm. He had to look away to refrain from crying himself. He pulled Daryl as close as he could and slowly relaxed as his man's shivers subsided. Carol tucked the coarse blanket around them both, then got up.

"Rick, you try and get some sleep too. With a little luck things will look less bleak in the morning."

Daryl, shielded against the light from the fire by Rick's body, was finally calming his restless shivering. His skin, like ice against Rick when they'd first touched, was getting warmer now. His breathing seemed to ease up some, too. Maybe, if he got some real sleep now and took the last pill in the morning things could still work out ok.

Rick wasn't too hopeful, but if he allowed the despair to take over now he might as well just give up.


	5. Chapter 5

"I can help him, you know…"

Rick ignored the stranger. He was bending over Daryl, replacing the cool cloth on his forehead. Daryl had taken the last pill that morning, crushed and dissolved in water. It had taken a long time to actually get it into him, he just wouldn't wake up properly. Once most of it had gone down, and stayed down, the hunter seemed to rally somewhat. He'd finally woken up, thirsty and weak but more fully lucid than for days. Rick and Carol had taken the opportunity to get him back into his almost dry clothes and had settled him more comfortably on their now dry blankets, giving him sips of water to drink every few minutes.

Then that stranger Aaron had turned up, and Rick had been distracted by him for a while. Daryl had mostly slept through it all by the fire, and Rick now wondered if that hadn't already been the beginning of the next crisis. Since they had no idea who this man was, and whether he meant them well or ill Rick had sent the others outside to hide in pairs while Abe and Michonne checked out some of Aaron's claims.

Carl had taken Judith, and Rick had kept Daryl with him. He'd been loath to wake his man, just to send him outside into the glare. Now Rick wondered whether he would've even woken up if they'd tried.

No sooner had Aaron been secured, and the others had disappeared through the barn door that there had been a low moan from Daryl. Rick had wheeled round and covered the distance to his side in two strides. He'd dropped down to his knees just as Daryl had curled up into a tight ball under the blankets. He'd been pressing both hands to his stomach, trying to hide his face from the dim light at the same time. Rick had reached for him to try and help him roll over as Daryl had gagged several times. Before Rick could locate the plastic bags a stream of sick had splattered the dusty floor as Daryl had brought up the precious water they had worked so hard to get into him, together with the last of the migraine pills.

It was just as bad as before. Daryl gagged and retched long after nothing was left to bring up, and as Rick held him gently, trying to prevent him from choking or falling face first into the pool of vomit, he could feel his man's skin burning. Daryl was shaking and whimpering, curled up tightly, hands pressed against his temples now, clearly in agony.

When the nausea finally seemed to abate Rick lowered Daryl back down onto Maggie's pillow and retrieved the cloths. He wiped Daryl's face with one, wishing he could do more than that. It would be wonderful if he could give Daryl a proper bath, put fresh clothes on him and let him sleep in a quiet, dark room until he felt ready to face the world again. But they had none of that. They had to make do with a stinking barn, hoping that the stranger who sat bound up just a few feet away didn't plan to kill them all.

Rick glanced at Aaron. The man gazed back, eyes full of pity. The urge to just believe this stranger, let him help if he could was strong. Rick was almost prepared to do anything now to help Daryl. But no… they couldn't just trust a completely unknown person like that. They weren't still alive because they'd blindly followed their gut… but Rick was still staring at Aaron, unable to look away. The other man's gaze did not waver.

"Rick, I promise I can help. Please… Your friend – Daryl? – clearly, he's in pain. I can make him feel better. Keep your gun on me, by all means, but don't let him suffer needlessly…"

That did it. Rick was desperate, he knew it. The suffering needed to end, he couldn't see Daryl like this any more. As if in a trance he moved over and crouched down by Aaron.

"If I untie you, what will you do?"

Aaron glanced at Daryl who was shifting restlessly again, moaning quietly.

"I will use acupressure to relieve his pain. It's a kind of massage… It won't hurt him, not really, and it'll work quickly. He'll feel better within minutes, I swear…" He held Rick's gaze, expression entirely open. "I'll tell you exactly what I'm doing, and you can watch me."

Eventually, Rick nodded. He untied the man, who rubbed his wrists. With his eyes still on Rick he got up and walked over to Daryl. Here he sat on the ground behind his head with his legs crossed. He motioned Rick over.

"Watch me. First, I'll put his head in my lap, if that's ok? It's easier that way…"

Rick moved closer and nodded. Aaron lifted Daryl by the shoulders, supporting his head and neck as he moved the pillow out of the way and moved into position so that Daryl's head rested on his crossed legs. Rick noticed how gentle Aaron was while handling his man, and he relaxed a notch, despite himself. Daryl gave the smallest whimper and Rick sat down close by. Aaron nodded and smiled encouragingly.

"Take his hand, talk to him, so he knows it's ok to relax."

Rick took Daryl's hand in his. It felt hot and damp. Daryl held on tightly, and Rick drew soothing circles on the warm skin of his man's wrist with his thumbs. Aaron smiled again.

"First, I'll massage the pressure points on his forehead and face. He'll find the sensation strange for a moment, and he might look like he's in distress. It'll pass quickly, but Rick, I need you to trust me for a few minutes, ok?"

Rick hesitated, but eventually nodded. He'd committed to this, he had to see it through for Daryl's sake. "If it helps him, just do it…"

Aaron looked down and put his fingers against Daryl's temples. He didn't seem to be making much contact, and for a moment nothing happened as Aaron held very still. Then he placed one thumb right in the middle of Daryl's forehead, and Daryl whimpered as the pressure increased. Rick could feel his man's fingers tighten on his and placed his other hand round Daryl's, too.

Aaron worked his thumbs in small, slow circles either side of Daryl's nose a few times. Again, Daryl whimpered, but it was less forceful now. When Aaron moved his fingers back to the temples and into the region behind his ears Daryl moaned suddenly and stiffened. Aaron looked up at Rick, alarm on his face.

"This shouldn't hurt him that much…"

Rick was already moving. "It's not that. Here, help me move him onto his side so he doesn't choke…"

Together they lifted Daryl slightly and rolled him onto his side, just as the vomiting started again. It was just brownish bile now, joining the puddle on the floor in a weak stream, but Daryl was soon sobbing again. Rick's heart clenched with misery. When the gagging stopped he lowered Daryl back onto Aaron's lap and looked at the stranger.

"Do what you can. This _has_ to stop…"

Aaron nodded. He put his hands back on Daryl's temples, fingers drawing circles, slowly increasing pressure on points around his hairline. Daryl shifted restlessly.

"Rick… wha's happening… don' like…"

He tried to pull his hand from Rick and move away from Aaron's touch, but Rick held on gently and put one hand on his arm, squeezing it slightly for reassurance.

"Daryl, it's ok. I'm here. This is Aaron, he's trying to help, ok? Just try and relax, you'll feel better soon…"

Daryl's free hand wandered onto his stomach, pressing down, but he no longer tried to squirm away. Rick snuck his own hand under Daryl's onto his sunken mid-section, massaging his stomach lightly. Sometimes in the past that had helped with the pain and the nausea. Daryl's stomach felt taut and warm under Rick's fingers, he was definitely still in discomfort.

Slowly, Daryl relaxed into the touch from Aaron's and Rick's hands. His breathing became deeper and more regular, and Rick watched his brows unknit. After a few minutes Aaron touched Daryl's elbow lightly.

"Can I take your hand, Daryl? There are some more points I want to work on…"

Daryl's hand came away from his stomach and Aaron massaged the soft part between his thumb and index finger for a few minutes, then repeated the same on the other hand. Daryl sighed a few times, but no longer as if in distress, and seemed more and more relaxed as the minutes ticked by.

Finally Aaron's hands went to the back of Daryl's neck, and Daryl sighed deeply as Aaron found the right spots there. Rick watch his pale face become more peaceful and calm than he had seen it in weeks. His head rolled slightly to one side and Rick watched as his man fell asleep in Aaron's lap. Aaron carefully pulled his hands away from under Daryl's neck and looked at Rick, smiling.

"How do you know how to do that?"

Rick's quiet voice could not hide the gratitude he was feeling. Aaron looked down at Daryl again and smoothed a few stray strands of hair off the hunter's forehead.

"My mother taught me, many, many years ago. I'd not thought of it in forever…" He looked up at Rick again. "I'll teach you, if you like?"

"Definitely!"

Rick's heart felt lighter than it had in weeks. If this continued to work their reliance on increasingly useless pain medication would be much reduced. There was no question in his mind now that they would go to Alexandria.

"Do you want us to move him so you don't have to stay like this? It's not exactly comfortable."

Rick gestured at Daryl, but Aaron shook his head, still smiling. He gazed at Daryl, then at Rick, and Rick understood that Aaron knew what he and Daryl were to each other. He didn't mind in the slightest.

"That's fine, Rick, I don't mind. Let him sleep, he needs it badly. You too, by the looks of it. Soon, I promise. You'll be safe with us, well, safer than out here, and you'll all have a chance to heal and regroup…"

Now Rick returned the other man's smile without reservation. He was sure that not all their tribulations were over, but he could feel that they had been granted a true respite.

Keeping hold of his lover's hand Rick just stayed where he was, savoring this moment of calm in the sea of pain that was their life, letting himself hope for a better future for the first time in what felt like forever.


	6. Chapter 6

When Daryl woke up his head was no longer hurting, but he couldn't move. His arms and legs were held fast in some contraption – or that was what he thought for a moment, at least. Then he opened his eyes and realized he was lying on a bed, and nothing was holding him, he was just incredibly weak.

And the bed was moving… Disoriented he turned his head, and that set off a powerful bout of nausea. Daryl tried desperately to swallow the feeling down, breathe through it, but it was no good. Gathering all his strength he tried to roll over, get off the bed before he soiled it, because he knew that would be inevitable now. Then hands came out of nowhere and supported him by the shoulders. His head whipped round in surprise, and that second sudden motion made the nausea double, then triple.

He groaned, but was faintly relieved nonetheless when he recognized Rick holding him. Of course it was, it always was. His Rick…

The relief at the familiar sight only lasted a split second. Daryl groaned again, pressed a hand to his mouth, or tried to, finding it almost impossible to lift his arm which was leaden and heavy.

"'m gonna puke…"

"I know… here. I got ya, just lean over a little more, that's it…"

A basin was held under his chin just in time. Another surge of sickness as the moving room lurched, and his stomach cramped painfully, expelling whatever might still be left. That it was anything at all surprised Daryl vaguely until he remember the water bottle someone had held to his lips what felt every few minutes for hours on end.

Throwing up hurt his throat terribly, and his stomach muscles were so sore he couldn't help the tears running down his face again within a minute. The gagging wouldn't stop and Daryl slumped into Rick's arms with a sob. Rick rubbed his back soothingly, then his stomach, which helped with the pain, and finally the retching stopped.

Of course, Rick didn't let go, he never let go. The basin disappeared and Rick sat down on the edge of the bed which was still moving horribly. Daryl clung to him, unable not to, somehow. The constant pain had eroded his fearlessness and calm, making it hard to tolerate situations he didn't immediately understand. Rick gently rocked them, and oddly that additional movement didn't add to his nausea but actually made Daryl feel better. He exhaled slowly, letting go of some of the tension. And miraculously, his head still didn't hurt.

"Where are we? Why is this room moving?"

"It's an RV. We'll be in Alexandria soon."

"Where? Rick, what happened?"

Rick sighed. "It's a really long story. I'll tell you everything soon, I promise. But for now all that counts is that we're really safe. Finally…"

There was a strange sense of relief apparent in Rick that Daryl vaguely thought had something to do with himself. But he found it hard to focus. He could already feel his eyes closing again, even though he wanted to ask a million questions. Rick's hand alighting on his forehead felt cool and soothing.

"Sleep now, Daryl. You're not out of the woods yet, you still feel really hot. I'm gonna stay right here," Rick added, interpreting Daryl's fingers tightening into his shirt correctly. "We'll be there soon, and it'll all make sense, I promise…"

Trusting Rick completely was second nature to Daryl now. If Rick said he could relax and everything would make sense soon then he knew it would. Feeling safe curled up in his lover's arms Daryl went back to sleep.

The next time Daryl woke he was lying on a bed that wasn't moving, and he was glad about that. No, not a bed, but a sofa. Inside a real house. Looking around the room Daryl realized just how luxurious a house this must be.

"Hey man… you're up!"

And there was Rick, sitting down by his side. Daryl smiled at his man. Rick seemed to be there whenever he woke up, and Daryl was more than grateful. Being ill had changed his life beyond recognition, and he needed the constancy and reassurance of Rick's presence more than ever.

"How're you feeling?"

Daryl had to think about that for a moment, moving arms and legs gingerly.

"Sore… and real gross…"

"But no headache?"

"No… strangely…"

Rick smiled. "Good."

"There was a man, he put his hands here…" Daryl touched his temples. His head felt almost normal.

"That was Aaron. He… I guess it was a kind of massage, what he did…"

"It worked, whatever it was."

"Yeah, it did… I want you to take it easy though, ok? There's a real nice bed upstairs that I want you in for the time being… but if you're feeling gross, maybe a bath would be nice? There's hot water here, too…"

"Really? Yeah, that'd be great, only…"

"I'll help you, don't worry."

Daryl sought out Rick's eyes, and put a hand against his lover's chest, glad to have his man so close.

"Thanks, for everything… y'know…"

"Don't, Daryl, there's no need. I'm just so glad you made it through this… Let's get you up, shall we?"

Rick first helped him sit up, which was quite the undertaking. Daryl didn't feel sick now, but still weak as a kitten. Being upright on this sofa, even supported by Rick, felt like the most exhausting thing he'd ever done. Rick looked at him critically.

"Let's do this slowly, and tell me if it's too much. There's a lot of stairs…"

He wasn't kidding. By the time they reached the second floor Daryl was shaking and dark shapes were exploding before his eyes with every heartbeat. Rick got him straight into a bedroom with a huge double bed and lowered him onto it. Daryl felt like it was just in time. A cottony, wooly feeling filled his ears and for a few minutes he had to fight hard to keep the encroaching darkness at bay, even lying down. Rick sat down with him, and the thing that grounded Daryl and helped him focus on not passing out was Rick's hand against his face.

Daryl had closed his eyes when he'd dropped down onto the bed. When he opened them again and saw Rick he smiled.

"Thanks. Again…"

"For what?"

"Jus' bein' here… need that…"

Rick returned his smile. "Always… Daryl, don't leave me, ok? Never leave me…"

Rick's voice sounded desperately sad, and Daryl felt a heaviness descend. He didn't want to think about all they'd lost, but it was bubbling so close to the surface. He knew how Rick felt, and what he was talking about. Of course he knew… He reached for Rick's hand that was lying on the bed between them.

"I won'. Not if I can help it… can promise you that…"

Rick looked at him a while longer, and Daryl felt himself drifting. He was warm and dry and pain free. What a luxury… Finally Rick seemed to come out of his reverie.

"Right, bath. You sure you want it now?"

"Yeah… not if it's too much trouble, tho…"

"Course it's not. I'll run it. You rest. We're safe, it's ok to fall asleep, you hear me?"

"Hmm…"

Daryl didn't really need telling. He was half asleep already.

"Wake up… water's ready…"

"Hmm? Ok…"

"We can do this later, if you'd rather sleep? There's no rush. Deanna's told everyone to leave us alone for a bit."

"No… no, 'm good, let's do it… Who?"

"She runs this place. Sort of… I'll introduce you later. Here, lean on me."

Rick put his arm around Daryl as the hunter struggled to sit up. Rick supported him as he stood on wobbly legs, then unbuttoned his pants for him. Then he gently pushed Daryl down again and started on his shirt buttons, but hesitated quickly.

"Daryl, in that storm when we got drenched… Carol and I took off all your clothes, and…"

Daryl's heartbeat sped up for a moment, and he felt suddenly cold. He'd been hiding his scars for so long… then he realized this was Rick, who had seen him at his weakest, most desperate, and yet was still here. He vaguely shook his head.

"'s ok… jus'… let's not talk about it now, yeah?"

"Ok…"

Rick helped Daryl take off his shirt, and Daryl saw the worry and pity in his lover's eyes. This was one reason he'd never wanted to address the abuse. He'd known Rick would feel sorry for him, and that it would change things between them. But now Rick worried about him for other reasons, too, and none of it could be changed by hiding. They'd just have to deal.

Daryl stayed quiet. He felt shame bubble up inside, and that familiar feeling that he wasn't worth all the trouble the others went to on his behalf. Daryl hated being so dependent, even on Rick, for such a simple task as taking a bath. But it served him right. He'd failed to protect those in his care, now he'd have to live with the humiliation of being helpless without other people. He now wished he hadn't agreed to the bath. He didn't deserve to feel better.

"You ok, man?" Rick stopped halfway in pulling his pants and underpants off. "Feeling sick? Or is your head hurting?"

Daryl shook his head, but Rick looked unconvinced.

"Nah, nothin's hurtin'… jus' tired…"

Rick straightened up and sat down next to Daryl, who knew Rick wasn't buying that excuse. He looked at Daryl intently until Daryl felt compelled to meet his eyes. Rick studied him for a long moment, and there was such love in his man's eyes that Daryl felt tears well up.

"Hey hey hey… Daryl, it's ok…"

Rick's hand came up to wipe away the tears with a gentle thumb. Daryl couldn't suppress a sob. Next thing he knew Rick's arms were around him, holding him fast, soothing hands on his bare, scarred back. He stiffened at the unfamiliar sensation for a moment, shaking against Rick with silent sobs, unable to stem the tears. He clung to his man for a long time, and when they finally broke apart Daryl felt exhausted. Rick looked at him searchingly, and Daryl tried to give him a reassuring smile. Rick didn't need something else to add to his worries.

"C'mon, let's get you cleaned up."

Rick put his arms around Daryl more firmly than strictly necessary when he supported him through to the bathroom. Daryl was grateful. Feeling the solid form of his lover close was comforting and made him feel better, safer, less unimportant. Rick practically had to lift Daryl into the tub, he was so wobbly and uncoordinated, even lifting his legs properly was too big a task.

When Daryl was finally seated in the warm, foamy water Rick turned the hot tap on for a few seconds more. Daryl just savored the sensation for a bit, being surrounded by the warmth and steam, in this beautiful, clean bathroom.

"I never thought we'd ever get t'have a bath like this again."

"This place is a miracle, yeah… But I can feel it, we'll not just be handed this on a silver platter. We'll have to fight to keep this. But, for now…" Rick gave him a stern look. "You need to get better first, get your strength back, or you won't be able to help me. And Daryl, I need your help. More now than ever."

Daryl looked away. How could he make Rick understand just how useless he really was?

Rick now took a washcloth and let warm water run down Daryl's back. It felt wonderful. Daryl sighed and closed his eyes, unable to resist enjoying the sensation, even feeling as despondent as he did just this moment. He rested his head on his drawn-up knees.

As he washed Daryl's back, then his shoulders and arms Rick continued, "Promise me you'll take care of yourself first, man. You need to get as much rest as you can. And eat as much as possible. You are so thin right now… if you don't take care of yourself now you'll not last long… and that thought kills me, you have no idea how much. I love you, Daryl…"

 _I love you…_ They'd said the words to each other before, but hearing them now was both comfort and torture. Daryl felt tears prickle in his eyes again but he bit them back as hard as he could.

Rick's hands next came to rest on Daryl's head. He got some nice-smelling shampoo off the side of the bath and carefully lathered it up. Daryl leaned his head back, let himself sink into the sensation of his lover's fingers massaging his scalp.

"I'm not hurting you, am I? No headache now?"

"No… 's nice…"

"Let me know right away if the migraine comes back, ok?"

"Ok…"

"Aaron will teach me how to do this acupressure on you. He says there's some of it you can learn to do yourself, too. Daryl, this might be the solution to our problem."

"Yeah…"

Daryl was grateful to this stranger he only remembered vaguely. Never experiencing that awful pain ever again would be all right with him. Thinking he deserved punishment was one thing, but when the migraines hit he wasn't just useless to the group, he was a burden. A liability. Not for the first time Daryl thought everyone would be better off if he died. Or just walked away from this promise of a new life…

"Daryl, you sure you're ok?"

Rick had just finished rinsing his hair, and his hands now paused on Daryl's shoulders. Daryl looked up into Rick's worried face. He nodded.

"Jus' real tired…"

It wasn't a lie, either. The hot water had really made him sleepy, and Daryl could hardly keep his eyes open now.

"Right, let's get you out of here."

Rick finished off quickly, then, surprising Daryl enough to make him yelp, lifted him out of the tub and carried him through into the bedroom. Rick awkwardly dropped a towel onto the bed which he must have grabbed on the way and sat Daryl on it, perched on the edge of the bed.

"The Alexandrians brought piles and piles of stuff, so we actually have clean clothes for everyone. Another thing I never thought we'd see again. Here, start drying off while I get something for you to wear."

Rick handed Daryl a second towel and started rummaging in the drawers. Daryl made a valiant attempt to dry his chest and arms, but gave up quickly. Gods, he felt so tired… Rick noticed, and when he came back over he took the towel and quickly dried Daryl's back and his hair. He then disappeared into the bathroom for a second, reemerging with a brush, smiling.

"Don't ever cut it, though."

Daryl couldn't help but smile back. This was actually nice, having Rick take care of him. Daryl felt so safe, having Rick close, and it felt good to be clean. He hadn't minded being filthy out on the road, but with the fever and the illness filthy hadn't even begun to describe it, lately. Even the tiredness was nice now, because Daryl knew he'd be able to sleep soon.

Rick brushed his hair, sitting on the bed very close behind him. When he was done he kept still for so long Daryl eventually threw him a questioning look over one shoulder.

"I thought I'd lose you, man…"

Rick's voice cracked and he couldn't say anything else. Daryl saw tears in his man's eyes. He turned round to face Rick, and with a sigh rested his forehead on Rick's shoulder. Seeing his lover worried and frightened was the last thing Daryl wanted. Rick pulled him close with a deep sigh of his own and held him tightly for a long moment. Daryl relaxed into the embrace, eyes closing, sleep very near now. Then Rick pressed a kiss to Daryl's still damp hair and pulled away.

"Let's get some clothes on you, before you fall asleep sitting up, buck naked. Not that I mind that much... but I don't want you catching cold, on top of everything."

Clad finally in fresh boxer shorts and t-shirt Daryl gratefully sank back into the pillows. Rick pulled the covers up, then went round the room and lowered all the blinds. Finally he sat down by Daryl's side again.

"You go to sleep now, ok? And when you wake up I'm going to get you as much food as you can eat…"

Daryl nodded, feeling for Rick's hand on the bed between them.

"Rick…"

"Hm?"

Rick squeezed his fingers, then drew small circles on Daryl's wrist, as was his wont. It felt so comforting and familiar Daryl could almost feel tears welling up again.

"Shall I stay a bit?"

"Yeah…"

So Rick lay down by Daryl's side and pulled him into an embrace. Daryl closed his eyes, utterly relaxed now. Within minutes he was asleep.

That he'd awake into yet more pain, and soon, was less than welcome, but not really a surprise to either of them.


	7. Chapter 7

"Daryl, breathe, it's ok. Aaron's coming, shhh… just a couple minutes more… I got ya, hang in there…"

"What happened? I thought he was better…"

"He was. He fell asleep in my arms a couple hours ago, and he was totally fine. When I came back to check on him just now he was like this again. Writhing and moaning, as bad as ever…"

"Rick, I think…"

"Yeah, I know… Daryl, it's ok, I got ya. Lean over this way, it's gonna be ok. Keep breathing, it's ok…"

"Here, careful… a bit more… Hold him, Rick, he's really scared now, I don't think he knows what's happening. Take care you don't both fall off the bed…"

"Ok… ok, got it. Shhh, man, it's ok, it's almost over, you're ok, shhh… Oh god, will this never end?!"

-.-

The nausea came in waves, up and down like a ship, moving, swaying, making him feel worse with every minute. His head was pounding, agony, knives slicing. He was sure it'd explode.

He could hear them talking. No, screaming. So loud, always, all of them, so, so loud. It hurt so much, he couldn't speak, couldn't tell them to shut up, be quiet. It made no sense, what they were saying. He didn't know that language. Where was he, anyway?

The taste of copper at the back of his throat, like blood, and he was throwing up, again. It hurt so bad, oh god, make it stop… He retched again, stomach acid burning. How could there be anything still inside? He'd expelled it all, three times over, and yet, here he was, bringing up more.

Hands on him, soothing, he knew they were. They were Rick's, of course, yet right now they burnt like fire, hurt more than they helped. It always was like this, but he never said anything after. Cos the truth was, even though it hurt like hell he needed Rick to hold him, keep him from floating away on this sea of pain.

He gagged again as his head roiled and shook, no sense of up or down, blind with the throbbing, making the sickness worse. He felt his head slump against Rick, felt his bones rattle. But Rick held him, never let go, and it hurt, oh gods. But he was safe.

Then more hands, different ones. Daryl felt fear rise up with the bile now, tried to get away, retched again, felt the sick trickle down his chin this time, soaking into his shirt. The alien fingers were still on him, pressing, probing.

"No…"

Gods, he felt so sick. All he could do was whisper, hoarse from the acid coming up again and again. More gagging from the fear, the effort to get away, burning in his throat.

"Shh, Daryl…"

His name. The only thing he recognized. Rick's voice, Rick's hands holding his own, then one warm and reassuring against his stomach.

Pressure on his temples again, terrifying, painful, but only for a moment. Then it was… something else. The pain receding, the nausea, finally, at bay. Fingers on his forehead, massaging tiny circles. On his neck, briefly frightening again, but then the tension eased, and he leaned into the touch. Better now, definitely better…

He felt sleepy, he was nodding off. Rick's hand still pressing gently on his burning stomach, soothing and warm. And the other hands, holding his right one, pushing hard into the soft flesh of the palm. He gave a little yelp, but then the sensation changed, actually made him feel calm. It was helping, definitely helping.

Close to drifting off again. Rick's hand, gentle on his face, a small kiss to the forehead.

"Sleep, Daryl. It's ok, it's over for now… I'm right here, I got ya… I love you."


	8. Chapter 8

"But why does it keep happening? He was better, no pain, no nausea. And then…"

"Rick, I'm no doctor. But this has been going on for a bit, hasn't it?"

"Yeah, quite a while."

"Then it will probably take quite a while to get it under control, too. And acupressure isn't magic. It's just one alternative form of treatment, and treatment takes time." Aaron looked at Daryl. "You should see our doctor as soon as you can, too. He's probably got some ideas."

Daryl nodded, even if the thought of seeing a doctor made all his instincts scream. Anything they suggested, at this point. Aaron smiled encouragingly.

"And I'll show you how to do the acupressure on yourself, too. You can practice that, and maybe just getting into the habit, even when you're not in acute pain will help stave off the attacks."

"Ok… thanks…"

"No problem. I'll come back tomorrow morning and we'll get started, ok? Oh," he pulled a couple of small bottles from his pocket and handed them to Rick, keeping his eyes on Daryl. "I got these from the infirmary. Just in case, until we know more."

Aaron stood up from the bed where he'd been sitting. Rick moved over to the door and opened it.

"See you in the morning, then, Daryl. Night, Rick."

"Good night, and thank you for everything."

Just as Aaron stepped through the door Carol came walking down the corridor. She stopped just outside the room and let Aaron pass. Then she came inside and Daryl could see she was carrying a tray.

"Feeling better?"

"Yeah…"

"Thank goodness for Aaron, huh? And a few hours of sleep. I brought you dinner…"

Daryl's heart sank a little. Carol seemed able to read his thoughts from the expression on his face.

"You need to eat, Daryl. No good worrying you'll throw up. If you don't get some food into you soon that'll be the least of your problems."

Carol handed the tray to Rick. "Make sure he eats. And then come down, so I can feed you too. You are starting to look like a famine victim yourself."

With a last, stern look at them both Carol left, closing the bedroom door behind her.

Rick looked at Daryl, expression half amused, half serious. "She's right, you know. You need to eat…"

"…and you need to take better care of yourself too, or there'll be two of us lyin' here soon, y'know."

Daryl sighed. He was scared of what might happen if he did what they all wanted him to do. But then it had been days since he'd had any significant amount of food, and despite not eating he'd still gotten sick. And he was tired of feeling so weak, and so tired, and he knew the only way to really get better was to eat regularly.

So, apprehensive but with determination, Daryl picked up the spoon when Rick put the tray on his lap, and started on the soup.

-.-

"Right, sit on the bed for me, um…"

"Daryl."

"Right. And you…?"

"Carol."

"Carol, yes. Sorry… would you mind waiting outside?"

"I think I'd rather…"

"It's ok, Carol. I can manage."

Daryl gave her a small smile and a nod. "Really, I can…"

"Course you can... All right then…"

Carol left the room and closed the door. The doctor, a tall, smiling blond man, looked up from his clipboard as he approached Daryl, who had just pulled himself up onto one of the high hospital beds with some difficulty.

"Daryl… nice to meet you."

Daryl merely nodded. He felt apprehensive. What could this stranger do to help him? And why did he smile so much? Daryl had noticed right away that the smile never reached his eyes. When the doctor held out his hand now Daryl just looked at it and didn't move.

"I'm Pete."

Once he realized that Daryl would not shake it Pete let his hand drop back to his side. He took a stethoscope from around his neck, looking mildly irritated.

"What seems to be the problem?"

"I get these headaches…"

Pete approached him with the stethoscope and Daryl flinched back. Now Pete was definitely frowning.

"Daryl, if you don't let me check you over I can't help, y'know?"

His voice was impatient and the tone made Daryl feel uneasy. He felt scolded like a child and stiffened, making no move to let Pete put the instrument anywhere near him. He knew Rick would frown and say he had to do anything to get better, but Daryl trusted his instincts. This man was not good people.

"Fine," Pete nearly snarled, then, looking at Daryl and realizing the effect he was having on him, seemed to remember that he was talking to a patient. In a calmer voice he continued.

"Tell me about the headaches. When did they start?"

"About a year ago? Maybe… 's been hard, keepin' track."

"After all this went down, then?"

"Yeah…"

"And before that? Never had any problems?"

"No."

"Describe the headaches."

"What… how d'you mean?"

Pete sighed. "Where does it hurt, usually?"

"Um… It varies, recently…"

"Do they come and go?"

"Yeah… I mean… no…"

"What now?"

Daryl took a deep breath. This man was so impatient, it was making him extra nervous and tongue tied. The doctor probably thought he was a bit slow. He was trying to give the right answers, he really was…

"They don' go away. Not on their own."

"Hmm. And do you find it hard to function when it happens?"

"Oh, yeah. 's like, I can't think, or walk, or anything, really…"

The blond man was hardly paying him any attention now, just scribbling something absent-mindedly onto his clipboard. Daryl lost his train of thought. Rick had run through what he should say, reminding him what he should definitely not forget to mention, and Carol had tried her best to help him remember.

Daryl knew he was doing a poor job here, and he felt miserable. Why could he never do anything right? He knew exactly what the migraines felt like, he could have even described them in detail to anybody who asked. Anybody but this man, it seemed.

Pete looked up but seemed hardly aware that Daryl was still there.

"Not sure what I can suggest, Daryl. I can give you some more painkillers…"

"I just got some of those, Aaron brought them. And he's been doing acupressure on m'head…"

Now Pete looked like he could hardly keep from rolling his eyes at this waste of time.

"Well, then, why don't you take those pills, and do the uh… acupressure, and we'll see how it goes, hmm? You can come back and tell me in a couple of weeks."

Daryl understood that the doctor wanted him to leave. Intimidated and confused he nodded and got up. At the door he hesitated. This wasn't right. Rick would never give up like this. He turned, and Pete glanced up.

"Something else?"

But he didn't know what to say. His heart was beating fast with misery and disgust for himself. Daryl just shook his head and quickly left the room.

-.-

"What did he say? Didn't take long, whatever it was…"

Carol was waiting out on the veranda of the house converted to infirmary. She pushed herself away from the bannister as Daryl came through the front door.

"Not much… he said t'keep taking the pills…"

"Daryl, you ok? You're white as a sheet… whoa, careful…"

Daryl, feeling suddenly dizzy, grabbed for the railing by the stairs but missed. Carol caught him just in time to prevent him from falling.

"Sit on the steps here, c'mon… Alright… Put your head down, keep breathing… that's it…"

Daryl sat on the stoop, shaking, dark shapes erupting before his eyes. He wasn't feeling exactly sick, but he could tell not all was well, either.

It had been a long time since he'd last been up and moving around this much. Carol sat on the steps next to him and placed a hand soothingly on the back of his neck.

"Head hurting?"

"No, 's not that. Jus' dizzy…"

"I should get Pete out here to…"

"No!"

She looked at him with surprise.

"He… he's not very nice." Why could he not explain himself better, ever? Cursing inwardly Daryl tried again. "He can't help… he won't. He's a bad man, Carol…"

He'd been sure she would scoff at him for being naïve and overly suspicious, but Carol merely looked thoughtful, then nodded.

"I think you're right. There's something off with him. With this whole place, actually…"

She looked at Daryl again. "How're you feeling now? Still going to pass out?"

"No, 'm fine."

"You're not. But if you think you can make it back to the house without fainting on me, then let's go. You belong in bed, you look dreadful. That idiot doctor, I don't need him to see that…"

Carol helped him back to his feet, and Daryl was grateful that she kept her arm around him as they walked. He felt incredibly weak, and was relieved when she guided him straight onto the sofa when they got into the house. The short walk had taken all his strength, and Daryl knew he'd not even make it up the stairs to bed without a rest first.

"You're back. What did the doctor suggest?"

Daryl, who had collapsed onto the sofa and immediately closed his eyes, turned his head and looked at Rick as he came walking into the living room from the kitchen, carrying two mugs. He placed one on the small table by Daryl's head. The scent of strong coffee was rising from it and Daryl half sat up, reaching gratefully for the hot drink and taking a sip immediately.

Carol made a face as Rick handed her the second mug. "Doc was totally useless."

Rick glanced at Daryl, who nodded. "Yeah. Told me t'keep taking the pills, and… and…"

Daryl still couldn't think of a good way to put into words how Pete had treated him. Even with just Rick and Carol here he felt reluctant to explain the feelings of inadequacy the doctor had elicited in him.

"He's just… not very good," he finished a bit lamely. The feeling of shame and unease, of not being good enough, of failing to do the right thing, which was so strong these days, rose in Daryl again and he fought hard not to let it engulf him again.

Rick seemed to understand at least some of it, and his eyes were full of compassion as he retraced his step to sit down on the sofa by Daryl's side. Rick took his hand and smiled down at him, and Daryl got the feeling that Rick really got what was going on inside him right now. He relaxed a little. He'd been dreading confessing to Rick that he'd not managed to get something more useful from the doctor.

"Never mind him. We've got the meds now, and Aaron to show us how to manage this thing." He glanced at Carol, then looked thoughtfully across the room. "And this Pete character… ever since Jessie came over that first day I thought there was something off with them…"

"Who?"

"Pete's wife," Rick explained, looking back at Daryl. "She was the one cut my hair."

Why he should have any bad feelings about that Daryl didn't know, but the mere mention of the woman gave him a leaden feeling in the pit of his stomach. Daryl looked away from Rick, towards the window. Rick noticed, of course he did. Nothing Daryl did went unnoticed by his lover these days.

"What is it?"

Daryl shook his head. "Nothing, jus' tired."

Rick didn't look convinced. He made to say something else, but Daryl headed him off. "I'd like to go to bed. Will you help me?"

Eyes narrowed Rick still looked suspicious. Was there something about this woman, perhaps, that Daryl had interpreted correctly, and Rick felt guilty about it, and couldn't let it go for that reason? The thought made Daryl feel sick. Great, just what he needed.

It had one desired effect, however. Something on Daryl's face made Rick forget whatever he'd wanted to add. He nodded and got up.

"Course I'll help you."

Even though he'd rested Daryl found the trip up the stairs challenging. His head was starting up again, and he knew the nausea was just one step behind. By the time they reached the top of the stairs he was leaning hard on Rick, shaking and covered in perspiration. He had to stop and close his eyes.

"Is it…?"

"M'head, yeah…"

Wordlessly Rick pulled him close and Daryl leaned his face against his man's shoulder. Rick half-carried him into their bedroom, helped him lie down, then put a hand against his forehead briefly, cursing under his breath.

"Keep your eyes closed. I'll get the blinds down."

By the time he'd done that, then fetched pills, water and a wet cloth from the bathroom Daryl's head was agony. He pressed his fingers to his temple, trying desperately to remember the techniques Aaron had started to teach him just that morning. He was unable to concentrate on anything now, the pain was overbearing, and the nausea was just gearing up for the first great push.

"Let me… or maybe better take the pills first…"

Rick sat down by Daryl's side and put the cool cloth on his forehead. Daryl gasped, the sensation welcome but unexpected. Then he groaned as the awful vertiginous sensation of impending sickness settled like a lead weight in his stomach.

"Can't… not now… Rick…"

Daryl groped blindly for the basin he knew to be sitting on the bedside table. Rick was faster, and had him up half to sitting just in time, too.

"I got you, Daryl… oh man, I'm sorry…"

Rick held him, held the basin, and Daryl just let it all happen. He was so tired, and so sick of this. Somehow Rick managed to slide in behind him on the bed, and when the retching finally stopped he cradled Daryl's head in his lap. At first too miserable with the persistent nausea, his burning stomach and aching head to pay attention Daryl finally realized what Rick was doing. His fingers on Daryl's temples were sure and gentle like Aaron's, and slowly the pain receded, the nausea lessened. Daryl relaxed into the touch.

"That feel ok?"

"Hmm… 's nice…"

"Just relax now, go to sleep if you can. It'll all be better in the morning."

And Daryl did as suggested. There was a niggling feeling at the back of his mind that, somehow, they were hurtling headlong into trouble, and it bothered him that he couldn't figure out what made him believe that. But the exhaustion was too great, and Rick's hands on him felt too good to concentrate on the unpleasant feeling, and within minutes Daryl was asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

They settled into a routine quickly, too quickly for some. Oh, there was a lot of strife, right off the bat, but they all did what they could to make this new life work. Or rather, they did what they had to.

Daryl spent a lot of the first week lying in bed, or on the sofa in the living room, recovering. Finally, finally, with the medication and the acupressure combined, his condition really started to improve. Regular meals, rest, and sleeping in a proper bed did their bit for his recovery, too. Rick watched over him with eagle eyes for several days, but soon other concerns started to distract him. Daryl didn't mind that the scrutiny lessened, even if Rick's presence still helped him remain calm better than anything.

And Daryl soon realized that remaining calm was key to his new life in Alexandria. As much as the safe zone aided in his recovery, Daryl suspected quickly that this would never be a place for him to really feel at home.

As his strength returned, and the headaches became fewer and manageable Daryl grew increasingly claustrophobic within the confines of the walls. True, he was still too weak to take trips further afield than the house next door, and undue exertion invariably tended to bring on another crisis, anyway. Daryl longed to be outside, more specifically to be out on his own, but fear of more pain, and of worrying Rick, and their family, made him reluctant to even contemplate leaving Alexandria.

But everyone was busy with their new life within a matter of days, and while everyone tried to spend time with Daryl every day those visits grew fewer and shorter quickly. Daryl knew he was partly to blame, too. Never one for conversation, the enforced inactivity was making him impatient as soon as the immediate fatigue had worn off, and while never rude or unpleasant he was not the most interesting company in this new place full of distractions.

Rick quickly grew insanely busy. At first reluctant to accept Deanna's offer of being constable he relented, not least because of Daryl's urging. Daryl was not at all happy for Rick to give in so easily to this new life, but he knew how much this community needed Rick, and how much Rick needed to make this life work.

The result of Daryl practically pushing his lover to accept the assignment was that Daryl soon spent a large chunk of his days on his own. While he craved solitude when out in the woods Daryl quickly found it depressing and boring within the walls.

In his best attempt not to be a hindrance for the others to start their new life he'd also been less than forthright with them. Though pain free for several days in a row, about halfway through the first week the first niggles of pain started to return. On their fifth day in Alexandria, shortly before mid-day Daryl realized that being less than honest about his illness was a dangerous game indeed.

While Rick had mastered the acupressure to a point now where he could make Daryl's headache disappear for days on end within twenty minutes or so Daryl was less successful with the self-administered techniques. He could improve the pain, or be pain-free for a couple of hours, but the headaches always came back. He had been trying to combat a new crisis on his own all morning, with decreasing success.

Near panic now, with the prospect of nausea threatening just off-stage Daryl could think of only one thing to do. He had no idea where Rick was right that moment, and he knew he didn't have any time to waste looking for him. There was just one other person who could help.

Daryl made his way downstairs and left the house as quickly as he could. Squinting into the glare outside even though the sky was overcast, praying that he'd have time to reach his destination before the nausea settled in and fearing that it was already too late he set off.

-.-

"Daryl, what… ah... Come here, careful… I got ya, c'mon… onto the sofa…"

"Feel sick… bathroom…"

"I'll never get you off the floor. Can you hang on one sec? Here, hold on to the doorframe…"

Aaron quickly grabbed a basin from a cupboard under the sink in the kitchen, then held Daryl firmly around the middle and navigated him into the living room. Daryl just about managed to collapse onto the sofa, basin in his lap before his stomach turned over. Aaron sat down next to him and without a word moved close enough for Daryl to lean into him as the familiar weakness gripped him.

One hand soothing on Daryl's back, Aaron pushed the hair off Daryl's sweaty face and made small, reassuring noises just like Rick would. Daryl felt embarrassed, but grateful for the support. He found it almost impossible to deal with these attacks on his own.

When it was clear that the vomiting had stopped for the moment Aaron placed the basin on the coffee table and moved to one end of the sofa.

"Put your head on my lap… that's it. Just tell me if you feel sick again, ok?"

"Mmm…"

Aaron's fingers, now so familiar, alighted on the pressure points on Daryl's head, and Daryl gave a moan, half of relief, half of discomfort. The first few minutes were always difficult.

"Oww…"

"Sorry, Daryl. Try to relax… this has gone a bit far, it'll hurt for a minute…"

Daryl tried to do as Aaron asked, and slowly the pain faded, then the pressure in his head lessened and finally, finally the nausea abated. Aaron's fingers drew soothing circles, sometimes gentle, sometimes harder, and Daryl relaxed into the sensation.

When Aaron's hands finally stopped Daryl opened his eyes with some difficulty. He was very close to dozing off now. Aaron smiled down at him.

"Better?"

"Much…"

"Good. Now, close your eyes again and go to sleep. You really should, even if it's only for a little bit."

Daryl was about to push himself to sitting so that Aaron could get up, but the other man held him down by the shoulders.

"I'm staying right here."

"Ya don't have t'…"

"I know, but I want to."

Aaron's eyes were gentle in his as Daryl looked up. He knew that instant this man was a friend, and he could trust him as implicitly as he trusted his family. As Daryl settled down again Aaron's hands were back in his hair, this time stroking him gently, like Rick would, or sometimes Carol, out on the road. Daryl sighed and closed his eyes. He was asleep in under a minute.

-.-

"I'm not sure that's a good idea yet, Daryl."

"We'll be careful..."

"I know you'll be careful, but don't you think you're too weak still to be out there for any length of time?"

"It'll be a really short scout. I'll go in the car with Aaron, the bike'll wait…"

"I don't know, Daryl…"

"Rick, 'm going mad in here. Everyone's got something to do, 'cept me. Y'said yerself we should try. Right now I can't even…"

Rick looked at him, and Daryl forced himself not to look away. Usually Rick got his way in these arguments, but this time Daryl was determined. And it was the truth, he was going crazy behind the walls. It was also true that he was scared of going out again, even with Aaron, who would keep him safe as expertly as Rick would. But he simply had to try, and soon, or he'd never dare again.

Daryl had been pain-free for three days now, and he did everything he could for it to stay that way. He had second helpings at every meal, took his pills like clockwork, and practiced the acupressure whenever he could. He was still weaker than he would have liked, but it would pass, and faster if he had a reason to move around with a purpose.

Eventually, Rick, who had been pacing the living room, turned back to him. "How about this: Give it two more days, and if you're still pain-free then you go with Aaron for a short run, say, a couple days at most?"

"Alright."

"And you'll take the walkie talkie and come back right away if you feel unwell?"

"Ok."

"Good. Shall we go to bed, then?"

Daryl got up from the sofa where he'd been waiting for Rick and went over to his man. Rick reached out and took Daryl gently by the elbow as soon as he was close enough. Daryl stopped, facing his lover, and Rick looked at him searchingly. His voice was quietly pleading when he spoke.

"I get it, man, how you feel. I really do. I'm sorry this has happened to you, and I wish there was something I could do to make it just go away. But there isn't, and we'll just have to deal, and take it slow…"

Rick looked at the floor, and when his eyes returned to Daryl they were so sad. "I'm terrified, Daryl. If I lost you now…"

In reply, because Daryl had no words when Rick got like this, Daryl leaned close and kissed Rick gently. Rick hesitated for a moment, then leaned into the kiss with a sigh. Daryl could taste the single tear that rolled down his lover's cheek.

He took Rick's hand in his, then, and pulled him toward the stairs. It seemed right, finally, for them to be together again like this. Daryl felt strange about it, almost shy. They'd not been intimate since that awful night before Terminus, which he hardly remembered anything about. Now, though, he was more than keen, and just thinking about Rick's hands on him again, finally, had him hard. It had been way too long.

Rick, as always these days, was careful, oh so careful. His hands so gentle, as if Daryl might break at the first less than cautious touch. And Daryl, though he didn't like it, and could hardly express the conflicting emotions coursing through him, was grateful. He felt fragile, like he really might break if they went too hard, too fast. Like everything could shatter at any moment, like he could lose what he'd regained of himself with such difficulty only recently.

They kissed, and they touched, like it was the first time for them both. Their love for each other, and mutual pleasure, were the focus of that night. There were no records to be broken, nothing to prove. It was gentle and slow, and careful.

Rick was fearful, Daryl could tell. He saw the look on his man's face when they undressed, and he knew that his lover's eyes roaming over his so drastically changed body had as much to do with making sure Daryl wasn't losing any more weight as it had with passion.

Daryl had no illusions, he knew what his recent illness had done to him. He knew what he looked like, bones like a bird's, ribs in stark relief. Rick's touch was so much more intense, so much closer to the core now. He needed Rick to be gentle. He needed Rick, period.

They clung to each other with more intensity, more desperate for contact than ever before. The sex was wonderful, it was cathartic, and Daryl knew, he could feel, that Rick needed him as much as he needed Rick.

Afterwards they lay curled into each other, limbs intertwined, exhausted, spent. Rick held Daryl, watched him breathe, watched him recover, and only when both their bodies had returned more or less to normal did he allow himself to relax.

And then Rick started to cry.

He cried so hard, and for so long, that Daryl was getting worried he might not be able to deal with it on his own. He held Rick tight as his lover sobbed against him, carding one hand through his hair again and again.

And Daryl understood, really got it, for the first time ever, just how much they meant to each other now, and how much each really depended on the other.

-.-

"Daryl, you ok?"

"'m fine, yeah..."

"Daryl..."

"Ok, 'm not so good. It's starting again..."

"You should've said."

"Sorry..."

"Never mind. Hang on, I'll stop the car soon as we're round that bend. How bad is it?"

"'s still ok, just about..."

"Right, here we are. Best if you lie down, so you can relax... Let's go in the back, it's not perfect, but it'll probably do."

"Ok."

"Can you manage on your own?"

"Yeah..."

"Hmm... careful... Hang on, I'm coming round... here, lean on me, right foot out first. Now the other... don't bang your head..."

"Aaron..."

"I got you, it's ok... you feeling sick?"

"No."

"Good. Ok, slowly now. Climb in, careful with the head, last thing you need now... Right, I'm going round the other side again... stretch out as much as you can..."

"Oww...'m so sick of this."

"I know, Daryl. Right, here we are, lie back, close your eyes and try to relax."

"Hurts..."

"Sorry, hang in there just a sec, it'll feel better soon... Here, how's that?"

"Hmm..."

"Good... just breathe, Daryl, relax, I got it. We should probably head back, though..."

"No!"

"Rick will be so mad..."

"Please, Aaron... ugh..."

"Ok, ok, calm down. We won't go back, but you gotta relax or this is all for nothing. And then I will have to take you back... That's better... does it feel better?"

"Mmhmm... yeah, it does..."

"Good... best if you sleep for a bit. It's late anyway, we'll stop here for the night."

"'s not safe..."

"As safe as we'll be out here. Don't worry, I've stayed out here before."

"Yeah...'m sorry. Aaron...'m scared."

"I know. But I won't let anything happen to you. You gotta trust us, for a change. Rick's told me, that's not so easy for you, huh?"

"No... trying tho..."

"I know. It's hard to let people take control."

"I want to, I do... Rick's right..."

"But he doesn't really trust us, either, does he?"

"He will... the things he's been through... he..."

"It's ok, Daryl, don't trouble yourself now. I get it, a little bit anyway. But for now, just relax, and try to sleep."

"Ok. Thanks, man..."

-.-

Daryl was exhausted. He could feel it like physical pain, that tiredness, bone-deep, heavy, all-consuming. But for once, mercifully, there was no actual pain, and no indication that that might change.

He wanted to sleep, badly, but even more he wanted Rick back, safe and sound, first. His lover was still with Morgan, who, for now, was housed in a secured building. Both Rick and Daryl knew this to be unnecessary, but after all that had gone down the Alexandrians had insisted, and Morgan had acquiesced straight away.

They had eaten with Morgan, both Aaron and Rick watching Daryl carefully, making sure he got food into him. Then Rick had gone to clean up. For a while they'd stayed sitting in the kitchen after that, and Daryl had tried to follow the conversation, but his eyes had grown increasingly heavy, and he knew he was drifting. Finally Rick had put an end to his self-imposed misery.

"Why don't you go to bed? I'll be there soon."

"Nah, I'll wait."

Rick had looked at him with that worried frown he had, but had refrained from asking the questions that were now always at the forefront of everyone's mind. _Does your head hurt? Are you feeling sick?_ Daryl had been glad that Rick had bitten them back.

"Then at least stretch out on the sofa. You look like you're about to fall off that chair with exhaustion."

"You don' look so great yourself, man," Daryl had retorted, but he'd followed the suggestion nevertheless. It was bliss, lying on the squishy sofa, just resting, not having to talk, or listen, or do anything for a bit. Rick, Aaron and Morgan had left shortly after that. Daryl dozed lightly, never fully falling asleep, but drifting, warm, comfortable, pain free.

What a day they'd had. Daryl wasn't sorry he'd insisted on going out with Aaron, but if he was being honest with himself it had at times been a bit much. Aaron had managed to head off that one crisis, and the pain had not returned. But even just being in the car all day, and sleeping outdoors, had been a challenge. Daryl had become aware just how weak he still was, compared to his normal self. And relying even on Aaron for his safety hadn't come easy to Daryl.

But he did trust Aaron now, he realized as he lay waiting for Rick, just as much as he trusted their group. Daryl knew Aaron was good people, and very capable of surviving in this world. The main feeling now was gratitude towards the man who'd kept him safe and had been willing to risk his own life protecting Daryl when they got trapped in that car by the walkers. Aaron had given Daryl the first chance to get back to a life he understood, and he'd never forget that.

The front door falling closed woke Daryl fully from his doze and he opened his eyes to the sight of Rick smiling down at him.

"I should let you sleep here, just tuck a blanket round you…"

Daryl pushed himself up, wincing at the tiredness in his muscles. Once upright he rubbed his eyes.

"Nah, 'm good to get up them stairs." He glanced up and returned Rick's smile. "Sides, I really wanna sleep next t'ya, if you don' mind…"

Rick nodded, but then the smile vanished from his face and was replaced by the sadness Daryl had noticed in his eyes earlier. A change had taken place while he and Aaron had been gone, both in Alexandria and within Rick. Daryl didn't fully understand it yet, but he knew Rick would need him now more than ever.

As Daryl got to his feet Rick stepped close and, after a moment's hesitation, put his arm around him. Daryl thought this was as much to support him, as Rick usually did these days, as it was out of a need to feel him close. Daryl leaned into Rick and rested his head against Rick's shoulder. His lover gave a sigh and tightened his arms around Daryl.

"I'm so glad I got you back safe, and mostly in one piece. Don't ever leave me, Daryl…"

"Have I not promised you already that I won'…?

"But you don't know what I've done…"

Daryl pulled back and looked up at Rick. "Whatever I don' know won't make no difference. 'm never leaving, I got your back."

"But you really don't know the half of it yet. Why I killed Pete…"

Daryl put a finger against Rick's lips and fixated him with his eyes. "It can wait. Let's go sleep."

There was fear gathering in Daryl's gut, a suspicion that there was more to whatever had gone down here than a mere power struggle. He'd meant what he'd just said to Rick, he'd always have his lover's back. But right now he was done in, he had no more energy to deal with any problems. He needed rest, and so did Rick.

Daryl knew, to cope with what they would have to face next they both had to gather all the strength they could get.


End file.
